The Monster in the Closet
by PhantomGirl1731
Summary: Something evil's lurking in a closet...that's the jist of it. Anymore and it'll give away the plot I think...I wonder if T is a little high...
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, this is the second story to my Sam/Chance series. It was based off of a story I read in "100 Ghastly Little Ghost Stories"...I can't remember the title, at the moment, but it's in there. **

* * *

"**The Monster in the Closet"**

"Jacob?" Anna called out to her son, "Jacob, where are you?"

Her daughter Sally came into the room, "Mommy!"

"Sally…have you seen your brother?" Anna asked, kneeling down to look at her youngest child.

Sally looked at her feet, away from her mother.

"Sally, have you seen—?"

Sally simply nodded.

Anna sighed in relief, "Where is your brother?"

"In the closet," Sally said.

Anna frowned, "What closet?"

"In the upstairs closet."

"What is he doing in there?"

"I locked him in there," Sally answered.

Anna stared at Sally, then raced up the stairs to let Jacob out. When she opened the door however, she screamed hysterically.

***

Dean pulled to a stop in the Roadhouse parking lot, frowning at the car parked next to him.

Sam got out of the Impala, "What?"

Dean cocked his head at the car, "Where have I seen that car before?"

Sam frowned, the car did look familiar. "Dunno."

"Why do I suddenly have a headache?" Dean wondered aloud, as they walked toward the door.

"Dammit! Best two-outta-three!" Jo snapped, standing at the video-game machine.

"Nothin' doin'," the brunette said, taking the wad of bills from her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Jo scowled at her, then walked behind the bar. The brunette smiled, counting her newfound cash as she walked back to her table.

"Chance?" Sam asked.

"Ah God...Dawson?" Dean groaned. "No wonder my head hurt."

Chance smirked, "Glad to know I trigger headaches."

"I can vouch for that!" Jo called.

Chance turned to her, and did a bow.

Dean sighed, and muttered, "I need a drink."

Jo handed him a beer, glaring at Chance.

Chance stuck out her tongue, then walked back over to her table. She opened her laptop, and logged into the internet.

"You ever see your friend Cody?" Sam asked, sitting down across from her.

"Why would I? He's dead," Chance said, eyes on the computer screen.

"Right," Sam nodded.

"Anyway...what'd you do to your arm?" Chance asked, noting the white cast on Sam's right arm.

"I ah..." Sam stammered, "I got tackled by a zombie."

Chance shook her head, "Wow...a zombie, huh?"

"Yeah..." Sam nodded, his cheeks going red.

Chance went back to her computer, "Ugh...talk about zombies..."

"What?" Sam asked.

"A woman found her son in a closet," Chance began.

"Okay," Sam answered.

"Her daughter said a little boy told her to lock her brother in the closet," Chance explained. "He was in the closet for a few hours, and when his mother finally found him, he was dead."

"After a few hours?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah," Chance nodded. "Except it looked like he'd been in there for a week."

"Huh..." Sam said, "Interesting."

Chance sighed, "I suppose you wanna come along?"

"Uh..." Sam began to stammer, "Not if...I mean...if you wanna do that alone..."

Chance smiled at him, "Okay...if you want to come along, you can. Three hunters is better than one, right?"

"Ah...right," Sam nodded, smiling as well.

* * *

**If you want to read more, someone post a review. I just want one -- that's all I ask. It motivates me to write, and let's me know people are interested in my stories. I'm glad people seem to be reading them, but I'd like to know what you think. If you have a suggestion, don't like something, let me know.**


	2. Chapter 2

***

"I found him in here," Anna told them, leading them up the stairs. "In the closet..."

Sam and Chance followed, having left Dean behind at the motel to do research.

"Why was he in the closet?" Sam asked.

Anna wore a panicked look; "My daughter locked him in there."

"Why would she do that?" Chance asked.

"She said her imaginary friend told her to lock him in," Anna rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I don't know where they get these things from, I swear."

"Kids will be kids," Sam answered. "What happened after that?"

"Nothing..." Anna said. "I guess a couple of hours had passed...I already told this to the police—"

"We know...we're just fact-checking," Chance assured her. "Please...go on."

Anna nodded, and tears rolled down her cheeks. "I was calling for Jacob...but he didn't come. When Sally came to me, she told me he was in the closet...and I found him..."

"Um...may I speak with your daughter?" Chance asked, knowing Sam could take it from here.

"Sure...but I'm not sure what good it will do..." Anna nodded, sniffling slightly.

Chance glanced at Sam, then walked off to do her work.

Sam turned to Anna, "Um...Anna...what do you know about this house?"

Anna looked up at him in wonder, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what do you know about the original owners?" Sam asked carefully.

Anna wrapped her arms around herself, "Nothing...the house was empty before we moved in."

"Empty?"

"Nobody'd lived here for years," Anna explained. "A few people would move in...Then quickly move out...I'm starting to see why."

Sam chuckled nervously; "Yeah...I guess so." He hesitated, "Anna, how many children do you have?"

"Five...er...four..." Anna sniffled. "Jake and Sally are my two youngest...the other three are in school at the moment."

Chance knocked softly on the little girl's door. She sat on her bed, and looked up at Chance with wide brown eyes.

"Who are you?" She whimpered, hugging her teddy bear close.

"My name is Maryanne Booth," Chance said, kneeling so she was eye-level with the girl. "I'm a detective...I'm here to see how your brother died."

"I didn't know what would happen...I knew I wasn't supposed to, but I did it anyway—"

"Wait...first, tell me your name, and we'll start there, if you don't mind," Chance said, after she'd shushed the girl gently.

"My name's Sally Hargate."

"Good...now you can tell me the story from the beginning," Chance said. "Slowly please."

"He told me it was a game," The little girl whimpered. "Said it would be fun...I don't know why...he just said lock him in the closet."

"Who said to lock him in?" Chance asked.

"Jake...he said it would be fun..." Sally said, "Like one of those escape people...he said it would be fun."

"Then what happened?"

"She told me not to," Sally replied.

"Who?"

"Our friend Millie," Sally said. "Jake and his friend Andrew told me to do it...Millie tried to tell me not to."

"There were four of you?" Chance asked.

"When Mommy started calling for Jake, Millie and Andrew disappeared..." Sally whimpered. "I don't get it...Mommy says Andrew's imaginary...but me, Jake, and Millie could see him..."

Chance smiled weakly, "Maybe you've all just got active imaginations."

"Did you have an imaginary friend?" Sally asked.

Chance blinked, "Me? No."

"Why not?" Sally frowned.

"I had a sister," Chance said. "Didn't need an imaginary friend...she was always there to be my real friend."

"Where's your sister now?" Sally asked.

Chance frowned, "We don't speak anymore. I haven't seen her for a long time."

"Why not?" Sally asked.

"It's a long story," Chance sighed. "Sorry, I have to go. But thanks for talkin' with me Sally."

Sally's eyes filled with tears, "I killed my brother. It's my fault he went away!"

_Uh-oh..._Chance thought, when Sally started crying. Awkwardly, Chance wrapped her arms around the little girl to comfort her. "No...Sally...you didn't kill him...it's not your fault."

Sally sobbed into Chance's shoulder, "It is! It is!"

Chance sighed, "Sally, I'll find what killed your brother. It's what me and my friends do. It wasn't your fault."

Sally withdrew, and sniffled, "You promise?"

Chance smiled, "Hey, that's why I'm a detective. I'm the one that catches the things that kill big brothers."

Sally smiled through her tears, "I really didn't do anything wrong?"

Chance shook her head, "No. But I have to leave now."

"Find what did it and punish it!" Sally told her, as Chance got to her feet.

Chance gave her a salute and a nod, then walked into the hallway, finding Sam standing outside. "Hear much?"

"Some...nice way of lying to a kid," Sam told her, as they walked down the hall.

Chance shook her head; "It was a white lie, so sue me."

They were in Chance's car when Sam spoke again, "Any theories?"

"She said her brother had an imaginary friend," Chance said, starting the car. "What she didn't get was why her little friend and her brother could see him, as well as herself."

"So, malevolent spirit...that takes the shape of a kid?" Sam asked.

"Possibly, what did you get out of the mother?"

"The house was empty when they moved in," Sam responded. "Flickering lights, scratching noises...signs of a malevolent spirit," he shrugged.

"Hit the records...see what kids died in the house...and what it has to do with that closet," Chance said, heading toward the motel.


	3. Chapter 3

***

Back at the motel, while Sam and Chance sat on one bed with their laptops researching, Dean sat on the opposite bed, cleaning the weapons.

Chance twirled a pen between her fingers like a baton, while her wrist moved. Every time her wrist moved, it made her bracelet jangle.

The jingling of the bell was starting to annoy Dean. "Dawson, will you take that damn thing off?"

Chance frowned, and looked at her bracelet, "Why?"

"The damn bell is driving me nuts!"

Chance's response was more shaking of her wrist.

"Dawson, I'm warning you…!"

Chance simply rolled hr eyes, "You don't scare me, Winchester."

"You two wanna be alone or something?" Sam asked, rolling his eyes.

"Damn, it's not workin'…" Chance scowled.

"What?" Sam frowned.

"_'May your prayer be answered whenever the bell rings.'_" Chance quoted, then frowned, "He's not dropping that gun on his foot."

Dean scowled and flipped her off.

"The bell rings and your prayers are answered?" Sam asked.

"Dunno if its true," Chance admitted. "But it's the Zodiac dragon. If I remember right…bell is for the prayers. The phoenix means abundance of wealth, and the dragons mean health and long life." She chuckled, "the lady told me I got a double whammy…and that I'd probably live to be two hundred."

"Dawson alive for another hundred and eighty years," Dean shuddered. "Scary thought." He then ducked the Converse high top that flew at his head.

Chance rolled her eyes, and got to her feet to pick up her shoe.

"Forgive him," Sam told her.

"Hey, shouldn't I be forgiving her?" Dean snapped, "She's the one freakin' throwin' her shoes!"

Chance shook her head, and went back to her research.

"Wow..." Sam said, raising his eyebrows at the computer screen.

"What?" Dean asked.

"The Quinn family were the original owners of the house, and had four kids," Sam explained. "The family went away on a vacation, leaving their oldest, Andrew, in the care of friends. When they got back a week later, their neighbors said they thought Andrew was with them."

"What happened to Andrew?" Chance asked.

"Their youngest daughter Mildred locked him in the closet," Sam replied.

"Why'd she do that?" Chance snapped.

"Doesn't say," Sam sighed, "Just says it was an innocent game that turned deadly."

Chance rolled her eyes, "Wow, nothing gets by those people, does it?"

"So why was he the voice saying to do it?" Dean asked. "You said that the kid said he kept saying to lock her brother in the closet."

"Maybe that's it," Chance said.

"What's it?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "She means, maybe that's why his sister locked him in the closet. And now he's furious that the tables were turned."

"So now he's tryin' to get revenge against his sister, by making other sisters do the same thing?" Dean asked.

"Probably," Chance agreed. "Older brother, younger sister...probably sees her as his sister."

"Easy job then," Dean said. "Track down the kid's grave, salt and burn the bones, and the mamma and the remaining kids get to live in peace."

"Maybe," Chance said.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," Chance shook her head. "It's just...I don't think her mom will look at her the same, you know? 'Cause...she might still see her as her son's killer."

"Her own daughter?"

"Maybe...she was the one that locked him in the closet," Chance shrugged.

It was silent for a minute, mainly because Chance did make a valid point.

Dean then cleared his throat, "Okay Sam, track down where the kid's buried so we can burn the bones."

***

Dean struck the match, and said, "Anyone wanna say a few words?"

"Go to hell?" Chance supplied.

"Good riddance?" Sam added.

"And don't come back," Dean finished, and threw the match onto the bones. They went up in flames from the lighter fluid, and burned brightly in the darkness.

The three stood there for a moment, watching the bones slowly turn to ash.

"Anyone else get the feeling this was too easy?" Sam asked.

"Glad I'm not the only one," Dean said.

"I wanna talk to Sally again," Chance frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe we're just bein' paranoid."


	4. Chapter 4

***

Sally Hargate was in her room, keeping busy with her coloring book, when she heard the closet door slam. She got to her feet, and frowned when she saw Millie standing in front of the door. "Millie...what are you doing?"

"Sally?" Her older brother called. "Unlock the door! Now!"

"Millie! Why'd you lock him in the closet?" Sally demanded. "You know we aren't 'upposed to do that! After Jake—"

Millie smirked, "Sally...it's your fault anyway."

"No it's not!" Sally whimpered, "The lady said—"

"She was lying to you," Millie said. "You're the one that agreed to lock him in the closet. You're the one who didn't listen."

"Sally, open the door! Now!" Her brother pounded on the door.

Sally tried to get to the door, but Millie shoved her away. When all else failed, Sally took a deep breath, and screamed, "MOMMY!"

***

Chance rang the doorbell, and waited for someone to answer the door.

"Something's wrong," Sam murmured behind her.

A boy answered the door; he couldn't have been older than twelve years old. He looked at them suspiciously, "Who are you?"

"I'm Detective Booth," Chance pulled out the fake ID. "This is my partner, Detective Lockley. We were here investigating your brother's death. Can we speak to your mother?"

"She's down at the hospital," The boy said. "My younger brother almost died last night."

"How?" Sam asked.

"He was stuck in the closet. Sally locked him in too. She keeps blamin' it on this girl Millie whoever that is," The boy rolled his eyes.

"Can I speak with Sally?" Chance asked.

The boy hesitated, then opened the screen door. "Come in."

Chance glanced at Sam, and shrugged, before entering.

"She's upstairs in her room," The boy pointed.

"Thanks," Chance smiled weakly, then walked up the stairs.

They found Sally huddled on her bed, her cheeks puffy and eyes red from crying.

"Hey Sally, remember me?" Chance asked.

"Defective Booth," Sally grinned.

Sam chuckled at that, and Chance scowled at him, rolling her eyes. She cleared her throat, "Actually, it's _detective._"

"Oh...sorry," Sally said quietly, her grin gone.

Chance knelt down to be level with Sally, "So...your brother got locked in the closet."

"Millie did it!" Sally said immediately. "I swear! She locked him in! She told me it was my fault, that you lied to me!"

"I didn't lie," Chance frowned. "Um...Sally...is Millie real?"

"Huh?" Sally asked.

"I mean...is she a neighborhood friend? Or is she imaginary?" Chance clarified.

"She's real," Sally said. "She's gotta be real. I could see her! How could I see her if she wasn't real?"

"That's a good question," Chance sighed.

"Chance, can I see you outside for a second?" Sam said, motioning toward the hallway with his head.

They both walked out, and walked down the hall, away from Sally's room.

"You're thinking Millie's a spirit?" Sam asked.

"I'm thinking Millie is Mildred," Chance folded her arms. "I'm also thinking Andrew wasn't the one killing the kids."

"Mildred's the one?" Sam thought that through, "But Andrew was the one who was killed."

"Think about it," Chance said. "My theory with Sally, how her mother would see her as Jake's killer?"

"So you're thinking her parents' feelings toward her changed because she accidentally killed Andrew?" Sam asked, then thought it through. "Makes sense...but why would she be killing them, what does she get out of it?"

"Someone who sees eye to eye with her," Chance answered. "Her family probably treated her as the Angel of Death..."

"So now anyone who lives here would have to lose a family member and feel the same pain she did," Sam finished.

"Fine...you get Dean to track down the bones...and...Guess we'll just have to stick around."

***

"So you're stayin' here with us?" The boy asked Sam, eyeing him critically.

"Yes, we are," Chance entered the room, sliding her cell phone shut.

"How did you manage that?"

"Powers of persuasion," Chance shrugged. "Your mother will be back later, so we're playin' babysitter for the next couple of hours."

"I'm twelve, I don't need no babysitter."

"Fine...um...?"

"Joe."

"Joe...huh, that's my step-dad's name...anyway, you're free to come and go as you please. However, under the circumstances..."

"I'll be over at my friend's house," Joe said, and walked out the door.

"Ouch..." Sam cringed.

"You get a hold of Dean?" Chance asked.

"Yeah, he said he'd look into it, track her down," Sam nodded. An awkward silence followed, until Sam asked, "Now what?"

"I can handle this on my own," Chance admitted. "If you wanna go help Dean, you can go."

"Nah...Dean's got it," Sam said, then frowned. "Huh...now I sound like my dad."

Chance walked a few paces, "I heard about that."

"You and probably every hunter in the world," Sam shook his head.

"Probably," Chance shrugged. Chance's cell phone began to ring, and the song was "Enter Sandman" by Metallica. "Talk to me...oh really? He does, does he?" She laughed, "He feels he's good enough for a real guitar?"

Sam sat and listened. Chance paced when she talked, occasionally made hand gestures to make a point, and made faces as she listened.

Chance stopped pacing and went rigid, "He did _what?_" She rubbed her eyes, "tell him it's okay...the strings are replaceable...what did he break?" She sighed, "It was about time to replace 'em anyway..." She listened to a few more minutes, "Tell him I said just stick with what he has, and I'll think about it, okay?" A few more minutes, and Chance made a face as she listened. "Tell him I'll be by soon...what do you mean 'how soon is soon'?" Chance sighed, "When I get done here, all right? That's how soon is soon." She exhaled, "Okay, see you then." She closed her phone, and sighed. She turned to Sam, "Ever have one of those days you could just go crawl under a rock and forget the world exists?"

"Often," Sam nodded. "Sorta...not so much anymore...I figure the visions would still keep comin'...so probably not an option."

"Everyone's got an anchor," Chance shrugged.

Sam clicked his tongue, then asked, "So...who was that?"

Chance frowned, "Um...a friend."

"A friend...like Chelsey?"

Chance bit her lip, "No...Not exactly...another friend."

Sam shrugged, "All right...it's none of my business anyway."

Chance frowned, and appeared deep in thought. "I don't get it."

"What?"

"He snapped all the strings of my electric guitar...how does one snap all the strings of a guitar?" Chance asked.

"Very carefully?" Sam asked.

Chance sighed, "I'll have to stop at a music store..."

"You play guitar?"

"Since I was little...acoustic and electric. And now the electric needs a doctor..."

"Because your friend snapped the strings?"

"Something like that, yeah," Chance nodded. She shook her head, and muttered, "And he wants his own...god..."

Sam wasn't sure about the last part, and was about to ask when Sally screamed from upstairs.

Chance bolted up the stairs, with Sam trailing behind, startled at her speed. He reached the bedroom door when he heard faint giggling.

"She was here!" Sally wailed. "Millie was here! She told me it was all my fault!"

"She's lying to you, Sally," Chance assured her, kneeling in front of the girl. "She's just trying to get to you. You have to ignore her, okay?"

Sally sniffled, "But...I was the one that locked him in—"

Chance shook her head; "Did you physically lock the door? Or did you just close it?"

"I closed it—"

"See? There you go!" Chance smiled. "Millie's the one at fault here, Sally. Not you."

"You said you have a sister, right?" Sally then asked, her mood slowly brightening.

Chance swallowed roughly, "Yeah...I do. I already told you that, Sally."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

Chance sighed, "Sally...it's a long story."

"We've got time," Sam said, leaning in the doorway.

Chance turned and glared at him, before turning back to Sally, "I'll give you the short version. Something happened, and we went our separate ways. The feeling was mutual, and it makes it easier on both sides."

"Do you miss her?" Sally asked.

Chance sighed, "I really don't think—"

"Do you?" Sally asked again.

Chance sighed again; knowing Sally wouldn't let it go. "Honestly, Sally, I don't. After a while...we just stopped getting along."

Sally nodded, "There were times I didn't get along with Jake either..." She looked at Chance, "Do you think you'll ever make up?"

Chance looked at the floor, "No. I don't think so...some things...they just can't be fixed, no matter how hard you try."

Sam frowned from the doorway. He was a pretty good liar when need be, and something in the way Chance was acting made Sam feel like something was off. He wasn't sure where the feeling was coming from, but Chance was pretty convincing...maybe she really couldn't stand her sister.

"You good now?" Chance asked, smiling slightly at Sally. When the girl nodded, Chance got to her feet and left the room.

Sam closed the door behind him. "Sister, huh?"

"I thought you knew...considering you were listening outside the door before."

"I didn't catch that part," Sam shrugged.

"Yeah well, like I said, we don't get along," Chance shrugged as well, walking toward the closet.

"Why not?" Sam asked.

Chance froze in her tracks, "What?"

"Why don't you two get along?" Sam reiterated.

Chance looked at him in confusion, as if nobody had ever asked her that question. "I...we...it's a long story."

"Yeah, I get that," Sam rolled his eyes.

"Look, she chose to go one way, I chose the other," Chance rolled her eyes. "We got into a fight, and that's it, the end!"

"I don't think that's the case," Sam snapped.

"And what makes you such an expert? We have worked two jobs together, Sam! It's not like we've known each other for years!" Chance snapped back.

"I've been around enough liars over the years to figure out when someone's tellin' a bold faced lie, and sweetheart, what you were peddlin' was off the charts!"

Chance glared at him, mouth open. She kept trying to form words, but nothing came out. Her eyes locked on something behind him, "Sam—!"

Sam suddenly felt a powerful yank, and he stumbled, having to grip the railing to keep from falling down the stairs. He heard Chance give a yell, and then a door slam.

Chance rubbed the back of her head, having hit a shelf when she landed in the closet.

"Chance!" Sam shouted from the other side.

Chance twisted on the doorknob; "It's locked…which is redundant…"

It sounded like Sam was trying to yank the door open.

"Sam, wait!" Chance called, leaning against the shelf, gripping it tightly. Then she thrust upward, sending her feet slamming into the door.

Sam's eyes widened when he heard the loud bang, and Chance's yelp of pain. "Chance? You all right?"

"Nothing a good chiropractor couldn't cure," Chance called weakly. "Just the way I wanted to die…trapped in a closet."

"Hey!" Sam snapped, "Don't talk like that."

"It was a joke!" Chance snapped back. "Got any ideas?"

Sam thought for a moment, "Got a gun?"

"No…dammit!"

Sam sighed, then pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Dean's number.

"What?" Dean snapped.

"You found the bones yet?" Sam demanded.

"Not yet...jeez, how many graves are in this frickin' bone-yard?" Dean groused.

"Dean, can you move this along, I don't wanna explain to Anna why Chance's corpse is rotting in her closet."

"I heard that Sam!" Chance snapped from behind the door.


	5. Chapter 5

***

Chance checked her watch, loving the glow-in-the-dark numbers, "Has he found it yet?"

"Chance, the answer's the same as it was two minutes ago when you asked," Sam pointed out. "And no, he hasn't found it. He said he'd call when he found it."

Chance swallowed roughly, and nodded. Three things she hated most, tight spaces, dark spaces, or any combination of the two. She was glad the door was locked though, nothing like a fearless demon hunter finding a fellow hunter huddling in a dark corner because of a case of claustrophobia.

The keyhole in the door let in a feeble stream of light, while the numbers on her watch gradually got dimmer and dimmer.

Chance reached out toward the next wall, and let out a yell, "Oh my god!"

"Chance?" Sam called worriedly.

"I'm fine," Chance called sheepishly. "False alarm!" She stretched out her legs and the soles of her Chuck Taylor's found the other end of the closet. "Big...roomy closet..." She muttered breathlessly. "Big...roomy...closet with a freakin' ghost, SAM!" Her voice got increasingly louder until she screamed his name. This time, she received no response.

The temperature in the air seemed to drop.

Chance took shallow breaths; it seemed the oxygen was leaving the room. "Get a grip, Dawson, it's just a closet...and Dean's gonna torch the bones, and you'll be outta here." She left the sanctuary of her corner, and crawled toward the door, "Sam?"

His face blocked the keyhole, "Chance?"

Chance went backward with a scream.

"Now you sound like Dean," Sam rolled his eyes.

"You just startled me," Chance said, trying to catch her breath. "Yeesh...kinda woozy..."

"He found the grave," Sam told her. "He's digging up the bones."

"NO!" A high-pitched voice screamed.

"Chance?" Sam said again.

"That was definitely not me," Chance said, wide-eyed.

"Uh-oh," Sam suddenly flew backward, this time tumbling backward down the stairs.

"Sam!" Chance cried, eyes-widening as he disappeared from sight.

"You lie!" the voice hissed. "Bad girl!"

Chance rolled her eyes, "This coming from a six-year-old murderer." She leaned back against the wall. "And what, pray tell, am I lying about?"

Mildred scowled at her, "You lie about your sister...about your so-called 'friend'!"

"I see," Chance nodded. _As long as she's talkin', the longer Dean has to burn the bones...and the less I'm freaked out about being locked in this damn..._

"You ignore them to save them," Mildred scoffed. "You spread lies so nobody's wiser...except your partner. But they aren't safe..._he'll_ never be safe."

"I'm assuming you aren't talkin' about Sam," Chance swallowed roughly. She reached around in her jacket, and her fingers closed around something in her interior pocket.

"You think he's safe, but he's as good as dead!" Mildred taunted.

"Mildred, I'm assuming you don't know the 411 on ghosts, do you?" Chance smirked.

"411?"

"Yeah," Chance said, "Like...the things that hurt them...like...iron!" She threw the makeshift knife at the wall, where it stuck. Mildred disappeared with a scream. And Chance was right were she was before...sitting in the dark space she hated more than anything. She crawled to the other side of the closet, and yanked out her iron knife, then huddled in a corner again.

***

"'Hurry it up Dean,'" Dean mocked, finally hitting the coffin. "'I don't wanna explain' why Chance's corpse is rotting in Anna's closet, Dean'." He rolled his eyes, breaking through to the bones, "We may not get along, but I'm not gonna let her rot! Jeez, I can only go so fast!"

After salting the bones, he started pouring on the lighter fluid.

"She's lying to you," A singsong voice taunted.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Oh god...it can move."

The little girl appeared on the gravestone, "She's lying, she's lying, she's lying!"

"Who's lying?" Dean asked, wishing the kid would be quiet.

"The girl you're with, she's a liar!"

"Oh, sweetheart, you're preachin' to the choir," Dean smirked, pulling out a matchbox. "But something tells me she's still on the up and up."

"What's that mean?" The girl frowned in confusion.

"It means, Dawson's one of the good guys," Dean told her, striking the match. "And you, miss, are about to be a pile of ash." He threw the lit match into the grave, and the bones lit up.

Mildred gave one more scream, before vanishing.

***

Sam made his way back up the stairs, hoping it was the last time for the night. The closet door was open slightly, and he nudged it open with his shoe. "Chance?"

Chance, whose head had been resting on her arms, looked up at him; "It's over, right?"

"I think so," Sam nodded. He noticed the hole in the wall, "Uh..."

"Iron knife," Chance held up the blade. She scrambled out of the closet, and stood straight, "Helps in tight situations...ghost related anyway."

"At least you didn't get thrown down the stairs," Sam winced at already forming bruises.

"Woulda traded you places," Chance shuddered.

The door opened and closed downstairs, "Hello?"

"Mommy!" Sally burst from her room and straight into her mother's arms.

Chance and Sam walked down the stairs, and Anna smiled at them, "Thanks for watching over her."

"No problem," Chance nodded.

Anna looked at a table and lamp that had been near the stairs. Both were now broken and lying in pieces. "How did that happen?"

Sam's cheeks went red, "Uh...I kinda...tripped, and...Well...fell down the stairs, I can replace it—"

"No, no, there's no need," Anna said. "So...did your investigation come up with anything?"

Chance and Sam shrugged.

"Just a fluke thing?" Anna asked, "Freak accident?"

"Something like that," Chance said, preparing to be yelled at or thrown out.

"You know what?" Anna smiled, "That's okay."

Sam blinked, "It is?"

"Weird, isn't it?" Anna shrugged. "Just feels...I don't know. Like something, like some dark energy, was lifted from the house, don't you think?"

***

"She actually said that?" Dean asked, shocked.

The trio now sat in a bar outside of town, having deemed the job done, and all spirits gone.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Amazing, isn't it?"

"One things for sure, I won't miss Mildred in the least, or that closet," Chance shuddered.

"That brat was annoying," Dean scowled.

"You saw her?" Chance asked.

"Annoying little brat," Dean said, taking a sip of his beer.

Chance was about to respond, when the song 'Enter Sandman' began to play. She hesitated, and then pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. "Hello?"

"Aww, and I like that song," Dean rolled his eyes.

Chance rolled her eyes, "Everything's okay, right?" She listened, and shook her head, "Long story...couple of days, okay?"

Dean frowned, and looked at Sam.

"No idea," Sam mouthed.

"No, no," Chance frowned, "I'll be there in a couple of days...honestly, I promise!" She rolled her eyes again, "Okay, okay. Have I ever lied to you?" A sigh, "Okay, so I have...have I ever broken a promise like this?"

The Winchesters exchanged confused looks.

Chance looked up at someone behind them, and said, "Hold on..." She gave money to the waitress standing between Sam and Dean, "A round of beers for my boys here."

"All right," The waitress smiled, and walked away.

"Tell him I said one, four, three," Chance said. "Tell him, he'll know what it means." She smiled slightly, "See you then...same to you."

"_Him_?" Dean asked, as Chance slid her phone shut.

"That's what I said," Chance said, shoving the phone back in her pocket.

"What? You got a boyfriend somewhere?" Dean smirked.

"Not in the way you're thinking, Winchester," Chance got to her feet, "Thanks again for bailin' me out back there. That's two I owe you guys."

"Just keep the free beers comin' Dawson, and we'll be fine," Dean grinned.

"Just the round for now," Chance smiled, "Gotta go boys. See ya 'round."

Sam watched her go; "There's something about her..."

"She's a liar," Dean said, as the waitress dropped off their beers. "'Least that's what Mildred said."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "And you believe a spirit?"

"I definitely think Dawson's hiding something," Dean admitted, "But I don't think she's one of the bad guys."

"And here I thought you hated her," Sam smirked.

"Nah, just like givin' her a hard time," Dean said. "She tell you who the _him_ is?"

"Nope...but whoever called her called earlier...and whoever _he_ is, snapped the strings of Chance's guitar."  
"Random."

"What she said anyway...still didn't say who it was...just a 'friend'."

"Well, we're bound to meet up with her again," Dean pointed out. "No matter who the _him_ is though, she still has eyes for sweet ol' Sammy." He smirked, nudging his brother in the ribs.

"Bite me," Sam snapped.

"No, bite her," Dean continued. "But don't leave teeth marks...hey, Sam, get back here! Sam! Jeez, can't you take a joke?"


End file.
